


Convergence

by Lynds



Series: Multiples [2]
Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: 80 of them, Arthur and Max are going to have a wonderful childhood, Charles Xavier has a Ph.D in Adorable, Charles is a Sweetheart, Edie Eisenhardt is Peak Mum, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Erik Has Feelings, Erik is a Hero, Erik is a Sweetheart, F/M, Holocaust, Jakob is so lost, Like, M/M, Multiple Selves, Period-Typical Homophobia, Poor Charles, Poor Erik, Sort Of, Time Travel, many original side characters, mentions only
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:34:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22943368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lynds/pseuds/Lynds
Summary: Erik has saved 83 people from the Warsaw Ghetto, including his parents and his younger self from a parallel universe. What happens to all these people? How will Erik cope with seeing his parents alive once again, and how will they cope when they find out what their beloved son has had to suffer?
Relationships: Edie Lehnsherr & Charles Xavier, Edie Lehnsherr & Erik Lehnsherr, Edie Lehnsherr/Jakob Lehnsherr, Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier
Series: Multiples [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1526603
Comments: 111
Kudos: 295





	1. Edie

**Author's Note:**

  * For [flightinflame](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flightinflame/gifts).



> FlightInFlame is completely responsible for this fic because she asked me what happened after. Also this fic is hers because she wrote me a ficlet in this universe with Charles, Erik, Arthur and Edie when I was feeling awful and it made me cry in the best way <3

“Mama, Mama, look!”

Edie wiped her hands on a dishcloth and turned to see her son rush in, Arthur hovering close behind. “What is it, _Liebling?”_

Max held up a blue stone egg in both hands, his eyes shining. “Look,” he said again. “Do you think it’s a dragon egg?” He winked and whispered “say yes – I’m playing a game for Arthur.”

She suppressed a smile and touched the egg. “Wow, maybe – you never know.” She looked up at Arthur, who was staring between her and the egg in wide-eyed wonder.

“Let’s try and hatch it, shall we?” Max said, bending down to Arthur and putting an arm around his shoulders.

“We should build it a nest,” Arthur said. “I think there are some spare towels in my bedroom that we can use.”

The two boys rushed out again, calling the Moszek twins, Edward and Ewa, who clattered past the door to join them a moment later. Edie smiled and turned back to the sink.

“They’re sweet boys,” said Rosa, handing her another plate. “It’s so good to see them happy and well-fed.”

Their eyes met and they both bowed their heads a moment, the names of those they’d left behind running through their minds, a precious scroll of survivor’s guilt.

In the two weeks since the portal had opened in their universe, the Warsaw 83 had had a lot to adapt to. They had, effectively, jumped twenty years into the future, where a man with numbers inked into his arm had wept and told them their lives had become one of the greatest shames in human history.

They were calling Erik Lehnsherr a miracle, an angel. She’d heard people calling him Moses.

When Erik had been unable to speak, overcome by his past (that was no longer their future), the other one had stepped in, hand on Erik’s shoulder. Charles Xavier, the goy who owned this vast mansion and seemed willing, for some reason, to make space for all of them in it.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what kind of condition the east wing rooms are in, nor the attics,” he had said, apologising for his generosity. “But if we put families together in the largest state rooms, and if everyone’s willing to take part in chore rotas, well… I’m sure we’ll be able to keep everyone happy and healthy.”

He’d stared around at them, a rabbit in the headlights in the face of their silent confusion, suspicion, fear of what must surely be too good to be true. He looked down at Erik, still with his hands clasped in front of his mouth, his eyes shut in an attempt to hold in the pain.

“If… you’ll excuse us,” he had said, tugging Erik to his feet and out of the door.

Now Edie turned and handed her pile of dry dishes to Sean to stack in the cupboards before hanging her towel on the hook. Rosa waggled her fingers in goodbye, and headed outside, calling out to her sister Regina. Edie leaned on the counter, relieved. The two sisters had been together when the portal formed, both able to come through. Most families had managed to stay together – either coming through all together, or left behind all together – but there were still one or two…

“Excuse me,” said a soft voice behind her, and Edie turned, her heartrate rising as she saw Charles Xavier in the doorway. He shuffled his feet awkwardly. “Uh, Mrs Leh- Mrs Eisenhardt, I was wondering… Erik and I were wondering if you would be free to talk for a moment? It’s nothing bad, I assure you, just… well, it’s complicated.”

“Of course,” she said, following him out of the room.

Charles seemed to radiate a sort of twitchy, awkward energy. “Have you settled in OK?” he asked, smiling as if the question had saved him from dreaded silence.

“Very well, thank you, Mr Xavier,” she said.

“Oh, Charles, please!”

“Charles,” she accepted, nodding slightly. “I am… curious, though – how is it that you speak German so well?”

He laughed slightly. “Oh, I’m afraid I don’t at all. You know I’m a telepath?” 

She nodded. This had been explained to all of them early on, that all of them were mutants. All special, just like her Max. 

“Well,” Charles continued, “Arthur and I read the meaning of the words of any language as it’s being said, we can’t help it.”

Edie blinked, amazed at this being considered something simple… and the way Charles spoke of his ability to understand any language, as if it were something to be ashamed of! She shook her head. “Well, I’m very grateful. My son loves playing with yours, and it would be a shame if they couldn’t speak to one another.”

“Oh, he’s not my… well. I’m glad. Arthur is very fond of Max.”

They arrived at a large study with a desk covered in paperwork and a leather sofa set in front of a chess board, where Jakob sat. He was watching Erik Lehnsherr himself, who was pacing. The moment Edie and Charles entered, both men looked up, their relief almost comical.

“Edie,” said Lehnsherr, and he looked at her like… well, Edie felt unable to hold his gaze, the force of it too much. “Please, sit. I’m sorry for bringing you both here so out of the blue.”

“Is there a problem?” Jakob asked, clutching Edie’s hand between both of his.

“No! Not at all, it’s…” Lehnsherr looked at Charles desperately.

“We owe you an explanation,” Charles said, sitting across the chessboard from them. Lehnsherr sat next to him, reaching towards him with one hand, then snatching it back. Charles glanced over at him and smiled sadly before continuing. “We’ve told you some of who we are and why we brought you here, but not everything. It wasn’t random, the portal appearing in your house.”

Edie put her hand to her mouth, the memory of Erik Lehnsherr stepping out of thin air into her kitchen.

Calling _Mama, Papa._

She stared at him in horror. “No…”

Lehnsherr hunched his shoulders, shrinking in on himself. Charles immediately clutched his hand, his whole body turned towards Lehnsherr. “Oh, no… Erik, she doesn’t mean—”

“What?” Jakob asked sharply. “What is this? What’s going on?” He glanced between Edie and the two young men across the room from them, and they _were_ young. He suddenly seemed so young.

“Max?” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

He glanced up at her from under his lashes, and how had she not seen it? How had she not noticed that this was her son, hurting? She should have been there.

She rose and stumbled over to kneel in front of him, placing her hand on his leg like she had so often to soothe a skinned knee. “Oh, _liebling_ , I’m so sorry. You had to… all those terrible things, and I wasn’t… I couldn’t stop them.”

The tears were a constant stream now, but her boy looked up at her, his beautiful blue-green eyes wet with grief, and she couldn’t stop herself from wrapping her arms tight around him.


	2. Erik

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik deserves all the nice things.

Having his mother and father sitting with him on the sofa, the three of them wrapped in a tight embrace, felt like the most impossible kind of good. Erik didn’t want to open his eyes for fear of finding them gone again. He could have turned to stone like this, never left the circle of their arms.

But at last they pulled back, wiping their eyes. Charles had left the room at some point, and Erik felt his absence now like a strange extra dimension. It was perfect now; it would have been more perfect with him there.

“So,” said Papa, touching Erik’s face with something like wonder. “Erik Lehnsherr?”

“I had to change my name after the camps, to get fake papers,” he admitted, voice rough.

“Look at you,” Mama smiled. “So handsome – and a hero too.”

Erik hunched his shoulders again. “I’m… I’m not a hero,” he admitted. “I’ve done… terrible things. I knew while I was doing them that you wouldn’t approve.”

Mama clasped his hand. Papa squeezed his shoulder. “Tell us,” said Mama, and Papa nodded solemnly. “Let us hear you, and then forgive you.”

***

Erik was still smiling when he returned to his bedroom. After the arrival of the Warsaw 83 he and Charles had decided to take separate, single bedrooms in a corner of the third floor, and Erik held the thought of his warm blankets, and the little standing basin in the corner, and of how he would be able to wash his face and nurse his pounding headache in the afternoon sunlight that fell over the foot of his bed.

But Charles scrambled to his feet as he opened the door. “Sorry,” he said, somewhat breathlessly. “I was… worried, and, well… I know we said… but I didn’t think you’d mind.”

Erik latched the door behind himself with a thought, then wrapped his arms around Charles and slumped, his head nestled on Charles’ shoulder. Charles sighed and relaxed into the embrace. “How did it go?” he asked softly.

“Would you like to see?”

“I didn’t… well… I mean, families are a very private thing and—”

Erik took Charles’ hand and pressed it against his temple. “I want you to,” he said, and smiled wider as he felt Charles’ warm gratitude and affection curling around him while the memories started to play. Confessing everything to his parents, all his hatreds and cruelties. They’d taken it all and given only love back.

Charles wiped his eyes with his fingertips. “Erik, I’m so happy for you.”

Erik just smiled and cuddled Charles closer, projecting his love and affection, as if he was trying to share his good fortune. He felt limitless, like he wanted to spread this feeling to the world. Charles was the perfect, the only worthwhile, place to start.

***

Erik looked up from the wires tangling themselves around bean plant supports to see his younger self looking at him.

“Max,” he said, straightening up.

Max tapped his fingers on his shorts anxiously, then hopped down the little slope to the new allotment. “Mama says you’re me, from the future?” He glanced up at Erik, then back down at the seedlings.

Erik smiled, pushing back his own nerves. “Yes, that’s right.”

“But you’re so _old!”_ he blurted, as if the thought had been bubbling up, a fizzy drink shaken before opening.

Erik laughed and Max blushed. “Sorry,” he said. “I just… you’re even older than Papa!”

Erik smiled. “I’m not, actually – Papa is, what, forty-three now? I’m only thirty.”

Max frowned and bent down to poke at an earthworm as it wriggled back into the dirt. “But still… your name.”

“I changed it when I left Poland.”

“Did you go back to Dusseldorf? I miss it there.”

Erik hesitated, thinking of the man who’d thrown a brick through his father’s shop window and snatched a handful of the watches before spitting at them. “I did, briefly,” he admitted.

“So… will I grow up like you?” Max asked.

“No,” said Erik vehemently.

Max looked up at him, his head tilted on one side and his hand up to shade his eyes. “What? Why?”

Erik crouched down in front of him. “You’ll grow up with your family around you, keeping you safe. You’ll know you’re loved. You never have to become like me, Max, I promise.”

“But you’re a hero.”

Erik shook his head, looking away, but Max continued. “That’s what they all say. I _want_ to be like you!”

Erik swallowed hard, watching the tears blur the dirt and bean plants in front of him. “Well, I’m… I’m flattered,” he said. He looked up and met Max’s eyes, matching his smile. “Come on, now. Let’s see if you can help me finish off these bean towers.”


	3. Arthur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And it was all going so well...
> 
> (don't worry it's only mild angst and will be over soon I promise!! Also Edie is PEAK MUM!!)

Arthur had a favourite place to wait for Max. It was a wide windowsill just down the corridor from Max’s bedroom. Arthur could sit there with his knees under his chin and stare out of the window until Max or the twins woke up.

Now the others had arrived, there was always so much going on out of the windows, even early in the mornings like this. There was Hank, walking across the gravel to the labs, a flask of coffee in hand. Arthur had heard Erik talking to Hank about the device he was fixing. He wanted to open another door in the air, like Max had come through. They wanted to save more people. Arthur was sure they’d do it. The device had been all smoky and melted, but Erik and Charles and Hank could save the whole world, Arthur was sure.

There was Mr Katz, walking slowly with Frieda Kowal. Mr Katz was really old and he’d hurt his hip coming through the doorway, but he could make his handkerchief into a mouse and sometimes it jumped onto Arthur’s lap and he and Max would shriek and laugh and no-one ever told them to keep the noise down, even in the formal parlour.

Although it probably wasn’t called the formal parlour anymore. Moira and Sean had pushed all the tables against the wall out of the way one day when it had been raining, and Erik had used some little metal birds from the chandelier to fly some string up, and they’d been hanging the sheets there to dry ever since. He and Max played hide and seek between the draping, white cloths, whispering their giggles in case they got chased away from the clean laundry.

Arthur had never known a place with so much life and chatter and laughter. Perhaps the mansion had been like a dormant seed for six whole years, and the door in the air, the device, had brought springtime. 

No; Charles and his team had been springtime. Max and his family and friends were the summer. 

“Arthur?” said Max’s mother from just over Arthur’s shoulder, and he startled violently.

“Yes,” he said, arranging himself with more decorum. “I’m sorry.”

She smiled, and he could feel it was a real one that basked him in its glow. “What are you sorry for, _liebling?”_ she asked.

Arthur shuffled and twisted his fingers together. He would usually hear the answer straight from Father’s head, learn too late what he’d been doing wrong, but Max’s mother seemed not to have an answer ready for him, just the same kind of warm fondness that Erik had when he looked at him. Charles too, only he was also sad under his smiles.

“I shouldn’t have been… lurking?” he asked, wincing up at Max’s mother.

Max’s mother laughed and patted his cheek, and he gazed up at her in wonder. “It’s your papa’s house, _liebling,_ you lurk in the corridors as much as you like.”

“My papa?” he asked. “I think it’s Charles’ house now.”

“Charles isn’t your papa?” she said, and it was lovely, she tilted her head just like Max and Erik.

Arthur shook his head. “He’s me, only from this universe. Like Max and Erik! Only I came here by accident.”

“Goodness,” she said, tendrils of worry curling around her and making Arthur’s heart rate pick up almost imperceptibly. “Aren’t they going to send you back to your parents?”

“No, ma’am,” he said, tangling his fingers together and trying not to hunch his shoulders. “Erik says it’s too dangerous.”

Her eyes became sad. “Because of the war.”

“Not really,” he said. “Because he saw Francis’ bruises.”

Max’s mother blinked. She opened and shut her mouth. Then she held out her hand. “Why don’t I make you breakfast and you can tell me all about Francis?”

***

Max’s mama was the absolute best person in the world. She took Arthur down to the kitchen, made him a big bowl of oatmeal, and sat with him to listen the whole time he talked. She wouldn’t let him sit on the counter like Erik and Sean, but at the end of his story she _hugged_ him. And then, when Arthur was brave enough to hug her leg while she was washing up, she bent down with a laugh and hugged him _again,_ even though her hands were all wet and soapy. She smelled like warm flowers and oatmeal and lemon from the washing up liquid, and her hugs were even better than Charles’.

Max found them in the kitchen not long after Edie had served Arthur breakfast, and Arthur was a little bit worried that Max wouldn’t want to share his mum’s cuddles, but instead he seemed to want to join in, and pulled Arthur in when he was getting a cuddle! Arthur had never felt so snuggly in all his life. He wondered if Edie would sit down in a big comfy chair and let Arthur crawl into her lap and just _sit._ He had never considered that as an option before. Maybe he would try with Charles first, that was probably safer. He wondered if Charles would be amenable to just sitting for a cuddle, or if he needed to be reading a book, too.

Max was soon fidgeting in his seat, and as soon as Arthur had finished his last spoon of oatmeal, he was jumping down from the table. “Let’s go somewhere new today,” he said, holding his hand out for Arthur. “We haven’t been down the corridor with all that fancy carpet yet, have we?”

Arthur shook his head. “In my universe that’s where Mother used to stay. She didn’t like me going up there.”

Max tilted his head on one side. “Don’t you miss her?”

Arthur shrugged and looked away. He supposed he _should_ feel sad… maybe there was something wrong with him, though, because he felt so happy here. He felt safe, and like there were people around that wanted to see him.

Max was distracted by the stairs up to Arthur’s parents’ wing, and he rushed ahead, leaning over the bannisters with a grin to wait for Arthur. Max’s legs were so much longer than his – he didn’t think he’d ever be as tall as Max, even when he was ten too. He seemed to tower above Arthur even more than Erik towered above Charles.

“The carpet here is so thick!” Max said, kneeling down to dig his fingers into the pile. “It’s like a mattress.”

Arthur laughed and lay flat on his back, right there in the corridor. Though he knew it was impossible, he still felt his heart beat faster with the thrill – what would Mother say if she walked out right now and saw them lying there like this? Surely she would have to talk to him then!

Max jumped up and started opening doors one by one, peering in with a constant commentary on each room. “This one has green wallpaper. The curtains are so thick I can’t see anything here. This one has lots of white sheets.” And then, at last, “Wow, Arthur! This one’s amazing, come and see!”

Arthur scrambled up and followed Max into a high-ceilinged room, dusty light filtering in through a gap in the curtains. As his eyes adjusted, he turned in a slow circle. The entire room was ringed with glass-fronted cabinets, each one full of fascinating little items. 

Max rushed over to one, pressing his hands flat to the glass. “Look at this,” he said, his voice an awed whisper. “Do you think they’re made of gold?”

Arthur stood on his tiptoes to peer into the cabinet at two delicately carved goblets. “Yes! They must be, right?”

Max crinkled his nose. “I wonder if I’ll be able to tell the difference between different types of metal with my powers one day.”

“Maybe. Ask Erik?”

Max nodded. “Oh, wow, look, a turtle!” He pointed to a carving of green stone.

“There’s an elephant over here.”

“Is that a shrunken head?!”

They moved from cabinet to cabinet, exclaiming over the choicest pieces, fingerprints smudging on glass that had seen nothing but unimpressed dust for decades. 

Arthur dropped to his knees in front of one. “Look!” he breathed. “I know that! It’s a ship in a bottle, Father bought it a few months ago in my universe. He said… he said if I was a good boy for my tests, we would assemble it together.”

Max sat beside him. “It’s so fine! I suppose if Charles is you, that means he must have made it with his father when he was your age.”

Arthur smiled and brushed his fingers against the glass. Max reached out and tugged the door handle very gently. “Look! It opens.”

Carefully they opened the cabinet door, and Arthur cupped the bottle in both hands, lifting it out like a little animal. He carried it over to the light, held it up and delighted over the delicate slivers of wood that made up the mast, the bowsprit and the booms. Max bent down, hands on his knees, to wonder at it over his shoulder. “It’s marvellous,” he said. “You and your father must have worked very hard.”

“Charles and his father, really,” laughed Arthur.

Max shrugged, then straightened up. “Why don’t you put it away so it doesn’t get broken?”

Perhaps it was inevitable. Once the suggestion had been made, once the thought implanted into Arthur’s head, perhaps there was no other option but for his foot to catch on the carpet. The ship in the bottle seemed to hang in the air as Arthur fell, turning and glinting in the narrow beam of sunlight before landing in front of Arthur’s outstretched hands, and shattering.

Arthur pushed himself up on his knees, his mouth hanging open in horror. “Oh, Arthur!” wailed Max, clutching at his head. “No, don’t touch it, you’ll cut yourself.”

Arthur tried to reply, tell Max he had to try and fix it, but all that came out was an hysterical, gulping sob.

Max knelt down next to him and put his arm over his back. “Oh, Arthur, it’s OK. Look, let’s go and tell Charles. Maybe he can fix it with glue.”

“He’ll be so mad,” Arthur gasped. “He’ll be _so mad.”_

Max sighed and gave him a hug. “I know – but if we tell him straight away he’ll just tell you off and it’ll be over and done. Parents always forgive you quicker if you say sorry straight away.”

Arthur stared up at Max. He must have got it wrong. Or maybe Max had just never been as bad as Arthur, because Arthur had always had whippings when he wasn’t good enough, and all Max was thinking of was a few stern words.

That made sense, he thought, his heart racing and breath coming faster. Max was good. Arthur was bad. “Please don’t tell him,” he gulped. “Please don’t, please—”

Max frowned. “Arthur—”

“He’ll send me back!” he said, his voice high and panicked. “He’ll be so angry, he won’t want to keep me, I’ll have to go back, I don’t want to go back, don’t let them!”

Max bit his lip, then nodded sharply. “Come with me,” he said. “I won’t let them take you away.”


	4. Charles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles finds Arthur.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I'm so sorry about the state of my inbox. I appreciate all your messages so _so_ much, I genuinely read them and think HOW can I possibly thank people enough for saying such wonderful thing? So... I sort of don't... epic procrastination + inability to accept compliments x perfectionism = a panic attack when I notice I've got more than 100 unanswered messages ;_;
> 
> I hope you won't mind very much if I do a generic 'thank you and I love you forever' message and copy/paste it into every freaking reply because I CAN'T leave them unanswered but with distancing and homeschooling 3 under-tens and also continuing my regular job while the world enters this weird limbo state, I also don't think I can mentally formulate suitable replies. Please, please know your messages literally light a fire in my chest and warm me. 
> 
> Also I'm planning to write another purely fluffy chapter to go at the end of this, but I can't promise it'll be done on schedule! It will mostly be an opportunity for Arthur to have a proper cuddle, and will be from Arthur's POV, because so many people said they'd love to see him actually GETTING that hug from Charles! Now I just have to hold my brain together over the next few weeks lol! Thank you so much for reading my rambling xxx

Charles was trying very hard not to be clingy, but having had Erik in his bed, by his side, playing chess across from him into the early hours of the morning for so many weeks, it was harder than it should have been to keep his distance. This morning he’d met Erik on a quiet stairwell and his eyes and mind had trailed across Erik’s face like fingertips in a stream. He’d moved on with a sigh, but two steps down Erik had rushed after him, glanced down the stairs, and pressed Charles against the wall, kissing him breathless.

Charles thought the stars in his eyes must have been clearly visible for hours after that.

He was taking his turn on laundry duty with Regina and Sean that morning, coaxing the twelve-year-old washing machine into dealing with more laundry than it had probably seen in its life. If Erik hadn’t been there to smooth the bearings he wasn’t sure it would have even managed their small team before.

“Hey, Professor… what’s up with you and Erik?” Sean asked tentatively as Regina left the room with another load.

Charles’ gaze snapped up to Sean, his heart suddenly sinking. “What? What do you mean?”

Sean’s thoughts were slowly weaving as always, the relaxed ebb and flow hiding a surprisingly perceptive mind beneath. “It’s just that… well, there was something going on between you two, right? Don’t worry,” he added hurriedly. “My brother’s homosexual, I won’t say anything. Just… you’re not talking anymore.”

“I talk to Erik.”

“Only about what time’s dinner, and who needs to do a grocery run. I mean, you guys aren’t even sharing a room anymore.”

“Oh God,” Charles said, covering his face with both hands.

“Naw, man, but I mean… you guys were together and you were _happy,_ right? What happened?”

“Sean…”

“Is it because you’re worried what we’ll think? Or the Warsaw guys? Honestly, Prof, Erik _saved_ them. I don’t think they’re gonna care.”

“Sean,” he sighed. “It’s not… it’s just… not that simple.”

“But you still love each other, right?”

Charles laughed, hysteria bubbling up in the back of his throat. Then he sighed. “Yes.”

Sean was quiet for a moment, and the sound of the washing machine filled every corner of the room. “That’s not fair,” he said, and Charles could read the defeat in his thoughts, how they extended out beyond, to Sean’s brother, leaving the house followed by screams and hatred, with Sean as a child crying and begging him to stay.

Charles smiled sadly and squeezed his shoulder. There was nothing that could be said.

***

Edie was in the kitchen when Sean, Charles and Regina had passed the last of their baskets on to Joachim and Rosa on washing line duty. Charles hesitated on the threshold when he saw her. 

She was only ten years older than him at the most, but in a way, she wasn’t. She represented all Erik had lost, all that he would surely and always choose over Charles. And it was _right_ that he should! Charles wouldn’t begrudge him that, wouldn’t resent her for it, but he never knew what to do in her presence. He was sneaking around with… well, not quite _her_ son, but… it was complicated.

Or maybe it was just that she was a mother. He’d felt uncertain around his own mother even when he was young, and then certain that his presence was unwanted. But Edie turned and smiled at him. “Oh! Good morning, Charles. The kettle’s hot, if you’d like some tea.”

He hesitated a moment more, then smiled and picked a mug out of the cabinet. “Thank you.”

“Arthur was explaining to me this morning that he is you from our universe?” she said hesitantly.

Charles nodded, his hands stilling on the sugar bowl.

“I’m… glad he found his way here,” she said, glancing up out of the corner of her eye. “And I’m grateful that your kindness stretches to the rest of us as well.”

Charles blushed. “It was Erik, really…”

“Erik brought us here, but you let us stay.”

Charles smiled down into his tea, basking in the pride and praise she was radiating towards him. “You’re all welcome to stay as long as you want, but Hank and Alex are doing a great job of providing fake IDs for everyone so you can choose to leave, if you want to.” He shrugged. “Personally, I like seeing the house being _used.”_

She smiled and leaned against the sink beside him. “Yes, the Moszeks have been talking about looking for jobs in town. If some of us can do that, we’ll be able to bring money back to contribute to the groceries.”

He looked up in surprise. “Oh, no, that’s really not necessary. If people want to leave and earn money that should be to make their own lives. There’s plenty—”

She placed her hand on his forearm. “No, they _want_ to,” she said, holding his gaze. “We are a community, Charles. Some of us may decide to move away in the future, but right now, we find solace in each other. We grieve for the past that was to be our future, and the only people who understand are here. So many of us will stay as long as you will have us.” She squeezed his arm and smiled.

Charles gazed at her in wonder, the easy tears of his prickling behind his eyes. This was the woman who had raised Erik, and it was painfully clear where he’d learned his passion, his determination to do the right thing. Charles’ heart wept that she’d been taken away from him. Charles had only known her for such a short time, and he already wanted to make her proud and earn the gratitude she was projecting towards and all around him.

When a wave of abject panic hit him, his first reaction was to pull Edie to the ground, sheltering her from whatever it was, flying glass and broken splinters and _he was going to hate him, he’d be sent back, he’d ruined everything._

“Charles! Charles, what is it?” Edie asked, her voice a terrified whisper.

Charles started to come back to himself, slowly separating his mind from that other one… the panic wasn’t _quite_ his. “Arthur,” he said. “Something’s wrong… I need to find him.”

Edie stood, her brow furrowed, and pulled Charles up by both hands. “He went off to play with Max this morning… Max said something about exploring the corridor with fancy carpet?”

Charles rubbed his forehead and chuckled mirthlessly. “That narrows it down a little, I suppose. But… well, give me a minute and I’ll be able to locate his mind, anyway.”

Edie nodded, worry still rolling off her. Charles opened his shields very carefully, filtering the worst of Arthur’s panic out. There! “This way,” he said, and led her straight out of the kitchen.

Edie followed him up the stairs, the two of them silent but for their footsteps on the dense carpet, and their worry echoing between them. Charles came to a sudden stop on the landing, his brow furrowing.

“What is it?” Edie asked.

“He’s shielding more strongly… himself and Max. It’s like he’s hiding,” Charles said.

“Can you still find him?”

“I can, though it’s more invasive than…” He took a deep breath. “Let’s see if we can find him without it. He was in my father’s curiosity room.” He shrugged at Edie, embarrassed. “It’s been here since the turn of the century, I… anyway.”

The room was bathed in a dusty light filtering in through high velvet curtains, motes of dust lit up like fireflies. And there, on the floor…

Charles dropped to one knee, lifting up the little ship gently, the splintered wood cradled in both hands. “Oh,” he said softly.

Edie winced. “Oh, Charles, I’m so sorry. Was it very valuable?”

Charles swallowed and forced a laugh. “It’s the most valuable thing in here, as far as I’m concerned.”

A distraught whimper cut through the quiet, the room suddenly dense with childish distress. “Shhh, Arthur,” whispered Max, so quietly Charles wasn’t sure he’d heard it.

“Max Eisenhardt, you come out right now!” Edie said sharply, hands fisted on her hips.

There was a scuffle behind a sheet-covered writing desk, and Max stood, his jaw jutting forward. “You can’t send him away! He didn’t mean it!” he said, glaring at Charles.

“Send him away?” Charles blurted, his mouth open. “You mean Arthur?”

“I won’t let you,” said Max.

“Max!” Edie snapped.

“I’m sorry!” Arthur wailed from behind the desk. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, don’t be mad at Max!”

“Arthur, please come out,” Charles begged.

“Don’t send him back!” Max yelled.

“Of course not!” Charles cried, tossing the ship aside. “God, Arthur, I am _not them!_ I am not Father, or Mother… I’m not going to throw you away for a mistake or an accident or a stupid choice. I will not choose a… a stupid piece of wood over a child – any child, I…” He trailed off and pressed his face into shaking hands. “I’m not him. I’m _not.”_

He heard a rustling noise, pressed his fingers so hard into his damp eyes that he saw stars. When he opened them again, wiping his face, Arthur was standing out in the open, sniffling. Edie was kneeling next to him, stroking his cheek and smiling at him, and Charles’ heart ached.

He was doing so badly at this. Arthur had needed kindness, and thank God for Edie, because Charles had just shouted at him. Not like his father… was he so sure?

Arthur looked up at him, wiping his cheeks with the back of his hand. Charles sighed and made an aborted movement towards him, holding out his hand, then pulling it back. He didn’t deserve that.

But Arthur took it. He ran to Charles and flung his arms around his waist, sobbing into his belly. Charles bent over and hugged his tiny body close as well as he could, tears falling freely again. “You’re safe here,” he promised. “I’m never going to send you away, Arthur, I swear. You’re safe here.”

***

Erik came to find him later, his eyes wide with the same concern Charles had seen in Edie and Max. Charles wiped his face and turned away from the window he’d been staring out of. “Charles,” said Erik, and all that compassion was too much.

“I’m sorry,” Charles said, forcing a smile through his tears. “It’s so stupid.”

Erik wrapped his arms around Charles and tucked him close, kissing his temple. Charles cried into the soft material of Erik’s turtleneck and wished, greedily, selfishly, that he could have Erik in his bed that night.

“Mama told me what happened earlier,” Erik said. “Arthur’s playing happily with Max now. Was it very precious? What they broke?”

Charles laughed damply. “It was the cheapest thing there.”

Erik held him closer. “A different kind of precious, then?”

Charles sighed, taking a moment to breathe Erik’s warmth in, feel the kind, soothing thoughts around him. “My father bought it when I was a little younger than Arthur is now,” he said at last. “He always said we’d do it together one day.”

Erik squeezed him a little. Charles saw the memories as flashes; Erik helping Jakob with little jobs around the house, with choosing what order to place the jewellery in its display cases. The value of a child working with a beloved parent.

Charles sagged slightly in Erik’s grasp, closing his eyes and letting himself be comforted. “My father died when I was eight. I made that ship myself in the months after his funeral.”

Erik stilled momentarily, then seemed to wrap him up even tighter, and rocked him gently.

When they heard voices and footsteps up the stairs, Erik froze, but didn’t pull away. Charles sighed, and did it for him. “Come now,” he said, placing both hands on Erik’s chest and smiling like he knew he must. “That’s quite enough of that. Let’s get on, shall we?”

“Charles…” Erik said, and Charles couldn’t look that regret and sorrow head on. He nodded instead. He understood. They both did.

He made sure no-one could see them as they left his room. At the bottom of the stairs, they parted ways, and neither looked back.

They didn’t.


	5. Edie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edie is the best mum ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry! I left you guys on a cliffhanger, life has been total chaos recently! And I'm so so sorry that I haven't replied to any of your wonderful comments, I've got a bit of an anxiety blockage on it and I'm working really hard on it... even if I just reply with copy/paste messages I want to reply to every one because I really do treasure them. Please forgive me for being so damn late with it all!

Edie leaned against the kitchen counter, her hands wrapped around a steaming mug of tea – real tea, with leaves that unfurled as they steeped. Like grass trimmings, Jakob had always teased her. She smiled to herself. She hadn’t known she still remembered that, it had been so long since tea had meant anything more than the powdery, sawdusty stuff he’d bought her last year, for a special birthday treat.

The day was still young, a silvery dew sparkling on the lawn outside, but as she watched, she saw Erik jogging across the grounds, his back straight, his face set in concentration. She couldn’t help but smile again, swallowing a lump in her throat. Her son would grow up to be something like that man. Not exactly the same – Max could, perhaps, be _safe._ It seemed like such an impossibility, something she’d prayed for with her whole soul and yet honestly hadn’t been able to believe in.

Max could be safe. Edie glanced around the kitchen before wiping her eyes surreptitiously, but only Hank was there, and he was engrossed in a technical-looking publication. Max could have a _childhood._ He could grow, and laugh, and play, and be spared the atrocity Erik had endured.

As Erik made his way up the terrace, now walking once more, Edie saw Charles walk out around the corner, following Hans Moszek, who was talking in broken English to Moira. She spared them little more than an automatic glance, her mind still set on Erik, and the man her son would be.

But as Charles’ group passed Erik, the two friends faltered. Erik greeted Hans and Moira, but his eyes never left Charles. And Charles hesitated, his stride broken, turning as Erik passed him. Like a sunflower to the sun.

He looked devastated.

It was an instant, that was all. A moment of weakness, she supposed. Then he turned and with a few steps, had caught up with his companions. And as he did so, Erik paused, frowned, and turned to look for a moment at Charles’ retreating back. When he finally walked into the house, his head was bowed, exhausted the way his run hadn’t managed to cause in him.

Edie stared out of the window for a long time. Her tea was almost cold when she drained the last of it. Hank was still poring over his book.

“Have Erik and Charles argued?” she asked. A little slower and clearer than usual – Hank’s German was still somewhat utilitarian.

“Argued?” he said, startled. Then he laughed. “They argue constantly.”

She frowned and tilted her head, and Hank sat up straighter, removing his glasses. “I mean… they always have. They seem to enjoy it.” He shook his head, amused. “You should see Charles’ face when Erik makes a point he hadn’t thought of. I’ve never seen someone so delighted to be proven wrong – they just grin at each other and argue until long after everyone else’s got bored and gone to bed.”

Edie looked back to the window, but both men had long gone. “I’ve never seen them do that.”

Hank frowned off into the distance, the blue fur around his brow crinkling and catching the light. “Hmm… come to think of it, they haven’t done that for… wow, a couple of months.” He shrugged. “Well, things have been busy, with everyone arriving. Maybe they came to an agreement. Or just… agreed to disagree.”

Edie bit her lip, and wondered.

***

“Do you remember Victor Muller?” she asked Jakob that night, lying pillowed on his shoulder and staring out at the moon.

“Mmm,” Jakob said. “I haven’t thought about him for years.”

“He was a sweet boy,” she said. “Such a big smile.”

Jakob chuckled. “A big smile for a big lad.”

She bit her lip. “What was the name of that young man of his?”

Jakob stilled just a tiny bit, more uncertainty than anything else. “What do you mean?”

“He was homosexual, wasn’t he?” she said, still in the same tone. “They used to meet in the bar on the corner, even after… well. As long as they could.”

“Isaac,” Jakob said gruffly. “Isaac Stern.”

They were quiet again. Edie felt her eyes prickle. “Do you think… if they had been brought here, would they be safe?”

“What do you mean, _liebling?”_ he asked, twisting to look at her face when he heard the tension in her voice.

“It’s still illegal, I know,” she said, almost in a whisper. “But do you think they could be safe? Here?”

He wrapped his arms tight around her and she clung to him. “What’s this about?” he asked gently.

“I think… Erik and Charles…”

“Edie, love,” he said. “You can’t accuse someone—”

“It wouldn’t be an accusation! If they love one another—”

“And if they _don’t,”_ he said firmly. “If they _aren’t,_ it would seem like one. Like a threat.”

Edie slumped in his arms. “The way they look at each other,” she said softly. “Like… they’ve seen heaven and they know it’ll never be for them.”

Jakob kissed her on the head and held her tight.

***

She kept her thoughts to herself for almost a week, but the more she silenced herself, the more she saw. She saw the way Erik’s eyes followed Charles’ movements across any room. She saw Charles’ shoulders drop, just slightly, when Erik left his space. She saw their eyes meet across the dinner table. The little smile echoed in the corners of both their eyes, then died, sad, before it could reach their lips.

To speak her thoughts to anyone other than Jakob felt dangerous, it always had been. But this world was different. They were in the process of building their own community here, and right now, this was the time for them to shape it according to what felt right.

And Edie was tired of being afraid. She was tired of biting her tongue for fear of the men who would take her away from what little she had left. And if her Max was fated to grow up to be Erik, or someone just like him, she refused to stand silent and watch him hide his love from the world.

But what Jakob had said was true – it could come across as a threat. So she decided to speak to Charles about it first – if he could read her mind, he could see how she felt about it, and everything would be fine.

***

They were making good progress on getting documentation for everyone. Every few days Charles would drive to New York with one or two of the Warsaw 83, and, somehow, come back with passports. She had wondered how they were managing it without birth certificates… not that birth certificates would have been much help when everyone looked 30 years younger than their official age. Jakob had raised his eyebrows and shrugged. “Probably best not to wonder too hard unless we want to know how illegal our son is willing to be in the future.”

Edie sighed in Max’s general direction as he whispered gleefully into Arthur’s ear about some prank or other. “Point taken,” she said wryly.

She was closing the oven on a batch of bread when Charles returned after one such trip. He faltered as he saw her, then smiled awkwardly. “I was just… sorry, I—”

Edie’s heart leapt. Apart from them, the kitchen was empty. Their chores were done. This was perfect timing. “I was going to make some tea, Charles, would you like some?”

He blinked and licked his lips in that nervous, flustered way he had. “Umm, if you don’t mind?”

“Sit down,” she smiled. “Of course I don’t, dear. Did you have a productive trip? Have you had lunch?”

“I… yes, thank you, the trip was fine. Lise and Andrej spoke to someone in the synagogue about services closer to Westchester, and there might be a young man doing his rabbinical training who’s willing to give… I’m sorry, I know it’s not sermons…”

“That would be wonderful!” she said, putting the pot of tea and a sandwich in front of him and taking a seat.”

He blinked owlishly at the food. “I don’t…”

“You looked hungry,” she said. “And you didn’t answer when I asked if you’d had lunch, don’t think I didn’t notice.” She poured the tea into two cups, and added lemon to hers. Charles was still staring when she looked back up. “Is it OK?” she asked, suddenly unsure. “Do you not like cheese? I can—”

“No! I just… what about you? I don’t… you know you don’t have to do this, Edie, really.”

“I know,” she said, tilting her head to the side. “But you’re practically skin and bones, honestly. You need looking after, Charles.”

He laughed. “Oh, no, I’m really fine. I learned to cook for myself quite young, I promise. You don’t need to worry about me.”

He seemed to relax at that, and Edie frowned slightly, wondering what it meant that he was more comfortable being criticised than being cared for. “I know you can,” she said. “But I don’t mind. I like being able to take care of people.”

He looked up and smiled at her, true happiness lighting up his eyes. “Do you know, I can see so much of you in Erik. He looks after people as well – he pretends to be all tough, but really, he cares so much for people.”

He was still smiling as he looked back at his sandwich, his mind far away in its happy place. With Erik, surely. “You love him,” she said, without thinking.

Charles froze, every muscle perfectly still. Edie put her hand on his arm. “I know how you feel about each other,” she said gently, her heart pounding.

“No,” he said, staring up at her all of a sudden, his blue eyes huge and pleading. “No, it’s not him, it’s only me, please, Mrs Eisenhardt—”

“Charles—”

“Erik isn’t… he’s not… it’s just me, I swear!”

Edie gaped at him in horror as he babbled continuously, the very air around them shuddering with his distress. “Charles! Charles, please, you misunderstand!” In desperation she grabbed one of his wildly flailing hands and pressed his fingertips to her temple.

Charles gasped and stilled. Edie squeezed her eyes shut and imagined surrounding him with love and acceptance like a blanket, hoping it was the right thing to do.

Charles’ breath shuddered, almost a whimper, and she opened her eyes. “Oh, darling, I’m so, so sorry,” she said, cupping Charles’ cheek, because he was weeping openly now, his breath ragged and his eyes already red-rimmed. “Oh, my _liebling,”_ she said, and stood, tugging him into a hug. He clung to her, his body shaking with sobs.

“Charles?” Erik called, and rushed into the kitchen, his eyes sharp with worry. “Charles! Mama, is everything… Charles, what’s _wrong?”_

Edie held out a hand to him and he rushed over to them, his hand spread broad on Charles’ back. “You love each other so much,” she said, her eyes brimming and her heart overflowing for them. 

Erik’s gaze snapped up to her. “Mama…”

She pulled him into the hug as well, tucking his head close. He wrapped both her and Charles up in his long limbs.

At last the storm passed. Charles released his tight grip on her back, his reluctance clear, and wiped his eyes. “I’m so sorry,” he said.

“Don’t be ashamed of feeling,” she said gently, and wiped his cheek with the backs of her fingers. Charles looked at her like she was some sort of impossible being, his eyes filling again.

Erik put his arm around Charles’ shoulder, still, even now, glancing at her for her judgement. When none came, he tucked Charles close, kissing him tenderly on his temple. 

“I am so, so proud of you both, you know?” she said. “Of all you’ve achieved, all you’ve created. Let’s not leave your love out of it, hmm?”

Charles and Erik both laughed softly. Charles turned his face into Erik’s chest, and they wrapped their arms tight around each other, sinking into each other’s comfort – as it was meant to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've added another chapter because a couple of people mentioned that Arthur deserved a proper cuddle from Charles, and I desperately want to write that scene! I don't know when I'll get the chance, but I'm hoping to get it uploaded soon! It will be pure fluff with no plot relevance at all lol!


	6. Arthur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur gets a cuddle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised a VERY long time ago, this is pure fluff. Arthur imagined maybe one day sitting on Charles or Edie's lap JUST to get a cuddle, so he absolutely has to have that opportunity!

“I’m going up to see Mama and Papa,” Max said, looking up at the grandfather clock by the stairs. “They like to ask me about my day before we go down for dinner, you know what parents are like.” He rolled his eyes, but Arthur could feel the warmth, so completely at odds with the aloof expression. Arthur nodded as if he knew what Max meant.

He wondered why Max thought such strange things about parents. Maybe it was Arthur who was wrong about what parents are really like. He frowned down at the cuffs of his shirt and thought of all the parents he knew now, of the Eisenhardts and the Moszeks and Mrs Kowal. Mr Katz as well, though he said his children were grown up. All of those people were parents and they were nothing like _Arthur’s_ parents. They were loud and warm and always rushing around, calling for their children, chasing them out of the way, chiding them, laughing with them, scooping them up and _cuddling_ them.

Edie cuddled the children a lot. Not just Max, but all the other children in the mansion, even Arthur. He thought of her warmth and how comfortable she was, even though she was very bony and pointy. He closed his eyes to remember the first time he’d hugged her, fixing the smell of the washing up liquid, the taste of the pancakes, the exact way the sun had been coming in through the window that morning.

There were so many good times to remember now. So many nice people. He passed seven people as he wandered down the corridors that had once been so stiflingly silent, and all of them smiled at him, or patted his head, or said hello. Arthur’s mind was filled with busy thoughts and daydreams, happiness and grief, anger and joy, so _much_ of all of it! He was getting good at shielding, Charles still worked with him a lot, but sometimes he lay flat on his back on a sofa or a quiet corridor and opened his mind just to feel all those people. 

Most of the time, though, he kept them muffled and quiet. It was a bit too much all the time, and Arthur liked to listen to what they were saying instead. Max always had lots of stories to tell and games to invent, so Arthur didn’t have to sink into minds to hear voices anymore.

As he made his way through the house, he wandered along a quieter corridor, towards the study Charles and Erik had used back when Francis had still been around, before Max and his family arrived. Arthur was surprised to see Charles there now, sitting quietly in a large armchair, staring into space and swirling ice in a glass.

Arthur hesitated. Charles didn’t often just sit, but Arthur had a flash of an image he’d thought up back when Edie first cuddled him, imagining crawling into Charles’ lap and curling up on him, not because anything was wrong, but because it was warm and comfortable and safe. He didn’t know if he could ever dare, though! What if Charles wanted to know why? What if he wanted peace and quiet and Arthur would be disturbing that? What if he got worried or annoyed or _anything_ and Arthur couldn’t explain?

Charles looked up before Arthur could decide to run off down the corridor. “Arthur, I didn’t notice you there! Are you alright?”

Arthur nodded and crept a little closer, tangling his fingers together in front of him. “Is everything alright with you?” he asked, because that’s what adults said to each other.

Charles smiled and put his glass on a little table beside him. “I am – I got back from town a bit earlier than expected.” He glanced to the side, bit his lip. Arthur always did that when he was nervous, but maybe adults did it for different reasons. “So… what have you been doing today?”

Arthur smiled. Perhaps, he thought, he _did_ have some idea of what parents were like. “I played with Max,” he said. “We pretended there was a tunnel under the hedge and it came out on the other side of the moon.”

“The other side of the moon?” Charles laughed. “What did you find there?”

Arthur climbed onto Charles’ lap and tucked his feet up against the arm of the chair. And just like that, Charles’ arms wrapped around him. It was that easy. “We found a creature,” he said. “It had purple spots and its name was George.”

Charles tipped his head back and laughed, and Arthur, smiling, heart thumping, chest warming, leaned against Charles. Charles hugged him. He felt Charles’ voice rumbling through his chest as he spoke, as Arthur told him about his day. And when Erik joined them, he patted Arthur’s head and smiled at him.

Arthur closed his eyes and tucked his head against Charles’ collarbone while Erik and Charles spoke, their voices soft and deeper, a different cadence to how they spoke to him. He felt warm, and safe, and held, and loved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this series... I've become so attached to this version of the mansion, with so much noise and joy. I hope it brought you some too! Stay safe!


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